


Bluing, Whiting

by AnonymousHeavyIndustries



Series: Memos from the Yamazaki Brand Inspection Agency [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Western, BDSM, Discipline, Established Relationship, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-08 06:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21471766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousHeavyIndustries/pseuds/AnonymousHeavyIndustries
Summary: All Sousuke wants is to be left alone while he works.All Natsuya wants is to be told that he did a good job.[Reading the previous work is nice but not necessary.]
Relationships: Kirishima Natsuya/Yamazaki Sousuke
Series: Memos from the Yamazaki Brand Inspection Agency [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1549135
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Bluing, Whiting

Natsuya wiped his brush on the edge of his bucket, dusted the lime from his sleeves, and stood back to look upon his work. What had been plain wood before now glistened a gentle blue. The porch and the posts remained pure white, for he thought it ridiculous to have a business be blue from roof to cornerstone, and the effect was, in his opinion, quite pretty. There was still the space on the porch before the door that would need painting once they had closed up for the evening, but the Yamazaki Brand Inspection Agency seemed more like a reputable establishment by the day.

No one could look upon this and think him a man not worth forgiving.

He corked his bottle of bluing and covered his bucket of wash with a sawed-off plank left over from the construction, then tromped up the stairs and swung wide the door, announcing his presence with a whistle.

"You finished?" Sousuke asked, eyes steady on his balance book.

"I'm fixin' to slop on a second coat once this'un dries, but for now, yeah."

Natsuya circled round the desk and attempted to wedge himself onto Sousuke's lap, but there was not room enough. He pulled on his sleeve. "Daddy."

"No." Sousuke dipped his pen and continued skritching through their expenses. "You have your own chair, go sit in it."

Indeed he did, a sturdy oak assemblage by the window, where his desk had been placed so as to be "less of a bother" to Sousuke and for him to have something to look at when his nerves got worked up from too much sitting. But he did not want to sit in a chair, sturdy or otherwise, he wanted to sit in his Daddy's lap and be praised for the job he had done.

Natsuya draped himself over the broad, stoic shoulders of his lover and watched his hand spider across the paper, finalizing the cost of wood, nails, shingles, and other various building materials, plus the small bit of labor they could not beg from friends in order to get the office up and operational before they were deep into fall. The numbers laid still while the pen shaped them, then once it moved on to the next, they shivered off the page, trading places, do-si-doing down the line til it made him jittery inside. He focused on the hand instead, how it drew nice big round heads on the nines. That was pleasant for a while, then he grew tired and slumped onto the floor and buried his face into Sousuke's thigh and made pitiful noises to try and entice him into some head-petting. After working through the last of the bills of sale on his desk, Sousuke set the book aside—blessed Hope!—then took on the stack of mail that had been accruing these past few days.

Natsuya snatched the stack and cast it upon the floor. "Begone, scarlet woman! Unhook your claws from my man and remove yourself from my sight!"

Dull frustration settled over Sousuke's face, his tightening grip on the letterknife a quiet reminder that bodily integrity was not guaranteed in this partnership. "If you're going to be a nuisance, at least fix me some coffee."

Thrilling at the thought of a few new stripes, Natsuya scooped up as many of the letters as he cared to, dropped them on the desk, and set to his new task. The water was easy enough, but he couldn't remember how many scoops of grounds there was supposed to be so he kept adding more until it looked right. Wait, was he supposed to boil the water first then add the grounds? Oh well. As long as it was hot and black, it would be fine.

He paced before the stout potbelly stove, clicking together chunks of wood as he waited for the water to boil. Much as he liked the man's quieter tendencies, he hoped Sousuke would quit spurning him soon. They had always worked hard, but it seemed that before Sousuke signed the land deed, Time had been an unfathomably huge cloth they could cut from at their leisure, yet once the ink dried, he found himself scrambling for enough scraps to keep decent. It was his own fault, for he had planted the idea, watered it with fantasy, trimmed it with possibility. "What if" was his favorite combination of two words in the English language (excluding "free whiskey" and "not guilty"). Opening a brand inspection agency was a thought he took no more serious than those of breeding fighting cocks, funding a gambling hall, or staking a claim in the Yukon. He had assumed Sousuke was the same.

Turned out Sousuke was not much for dreaming, but was exceedingly well-versed in doing, so while he moved on to his next dream, Sousuke scraped and toiled then turned up one morning with a parcel of papers saying that things were set to go. It began as a delight, as all novelties did. Then everything was business, everything was about moving to the next phase of the plan; there were authorities to contact, clients to meet, supplies to be gathered, loans to be negotiated, sites to be scouted, all their old work to be done atop that, and as far as Sousuke was concerned, Natsuya only lived to swing a hammer and hog up space in bed. They had not lain together for over a month now, and Sousuke had not given him the pleasure of his discipline for longer still, though he had tried something fierce to get it.

The coffee boiled up, over. Natsuya lifted it from the hissing cooktop and poured a cup. He worked up moisture into the back of his throat and discreetly allowed a great glob of mucous to sink into its depths. See if he could ignore that!

He delivered the coffee beaming and Sousuke received it without comment. He brought the tin rim to his lips, then paused. He sniffed it, holding it back for examination, then sank a finger into the brew and scraped up the swirling yellow dregs. He set the mug down and fixed his gaze on Natsuya.

"Corner."

"No." Natsuya shied, eyeing the door.

"Corner."

"No."

Sousuke clamped a hand on the back of Natsuya's neck and escorted him to the corner. "On your knees."

"No."

Sousuke kicked his feet out from under him. He held Natsuya there until he took his rightful place, nose notched square where the boards met.

"We are at work. I don't have time to be playing grabass when there's bills to pay." There was a clinking of metal and a sudden tightness around Natsuya's wrists as the handcuffs locked in. "You will stay here for an hour. Every time you move from this spot or speak without being spoken to, you will get five more minutes."

An hour? He'd never had to corner-sit that long before. Fifteen minutes was unbearable, he didn't know how he was supposed to manage an hour. He started to protest, but Sousuke briskly retrieved the cup of tainted coffee and dumped it on his head.

"Your time starts now."

The coffee stung as it sank through his hair, poured down his forehead. He shook out his hair, but it was already down his neck, soaking his shirt. His pants had not escaped the dousing either, though only in splotches that soon itched.

The sweet metallic sound of a tin cup being filled rang through the small office, followed by a disgusted sigh.

"There's more bean than water in here," he heard muttered. "Might as well drink sand." Louder, "Use the scoop. I made you it for a reason. _One_ scoop for a full pot of coffee. You don't have to think about it. One scoop. That's it. And you need to settle the grounds."

A little grit never hurt nobody. And more beans meant stronger coffee. He ought to be thanking him, putting up with this gross neglect while he was busy chasing this absurd newfound dream. It wasn't such a trouble to say more than five words to a man in a day, now was it? There was nothing painful about going to bed with his lover instead of falling asleep in his chair with a lapful of papers like some stove-up old miner certain that this time, he'd struck gold. And so what if he ducked off a couple times when he was supposedly supposed to be supervising construction while Sousuke went off to talk to the bank. It wasn't his project. He'd be no more use to it there than he was off swimming or gambling. He'd gone on a tear then, too! Left home with a quarter in his pocket, came back with a pair of double eagles. Bought him up some good new shirts and a bunch of bacon, new boots to replace the ones with the hole through the sole, a jug of whiskey, a sack of candy, a dozen fat cigars, a pretty silver matchsafe—he couldn't even remember everything else, all that and the double eagles and all he could do was look at him like he was dirt. Worse than dirt. Pig shit.

His shins hurt. He shifted on his knees, trying to find a better position, but there was none. Staying still always felt as if his bones were made of molten iron trying to escape a smith's mold, wanting to flow where it felt good and easy to be and sprawl out and not worry about being forced into the proper shape. Soft green grass, spilling out over it, perfect skies, nice. Could be out feeding the horses. Flash must be bored, fidgeting like he was. Oh, he was fidgeting now, wasn't he. He knew he would, but wished he wouldn't, as it made him nervier and more fidgety and he'd start doing stupid things and get in worse trouble. He hoped Sousuke wouldn't count it against him. Momma had. Counted it til she cried every day at how bad he was and _why wouldn't he just sit still?_ Miss Greenwell counted it too, on his backside and his knuckles, with rulers or her hand or whatever else was convenient, counted it til she threw out her arm and banishment ended up simpler. Not that he needed that stinking school anyway. Daddy understood him. Daddy gave him a chance. It was natural for a man to be energetic. Sousuke would understand too.

He studied the whorl of a knot in the board two up from his knee; it had a certain resemblance to a lion mane. He had seen pictures of them in the papers. Papers? What was the news today? He should order a paper for the office. Never mind the weekly papers they received at the ranch, they should get on a daily one, to have the freshest news. Fresh like the whitewash. He hoped Sousuke liked it. He didn't even look at it. He could've at least looked at it. He banged his head against the wall, angry.

"That's five."

Natsuya groaned, biting the innards of his mouth to give himself something to focus on. He could not tell how much time had passed. It felt like a couple forevers.

"I have to take a leak," he said, though he did not.

"Piss yourself, I don't care. Five more."

That was just like him, wasn't it. Natsuya thought to do it out of spite, but that would only make the remainder of the sit worse, so he refrained. Sousuke got up for another cup of coffee. It must have been a while since he was the type to drink slow. Fifty minutes must have passed. Fifty five? The chair screeched as he sat.

"You have forty-five minutes left."

He groaned again, pressing his head into the corner til it hurt a little and he could think better. Forty-five minutes wasn't that long. He could hear a horse coming up the road, focused in on that. It grew closer, closer, and then there were feet coming up on the porch, walking that narrow swath of naked wood to the door, and then what sounded like a man (he walked too heavy to be a woman) entered the office. He greeted Sousuke and rambled through a bit of preliminary pleasantry before sitting at the desk to discuss an upcoming exchange of stock. More coffee was fixed up for him and while he waited, the man took notice of Natsuya.

"What's the matter with him?"

"Don't mind him. He's been acting like a jackass, so I had to put him in his place."

"I've certainly got a few men on my dollar who could stand to have that treatment."

And they talked on and on and Natsuya grew more irate at the stranger's presence. Who did this bastard think he was? He wished that heathen's teeth would rot and knives would grow back in their place and twisted into his skull and every word he spoke was blood, blood forever. He rocked in place, bumping his head steadily against the wall, but quietly, so that Sousuke wouldn't add more time. Eventually, the man finished his coffee, set the date for the transaction, and bid his farewells. There was a clinking of cups and Sousuke shuttered the windows.

"Time's up." The cuffs lightened, fell off. "Turn around. Don't get up."

Natsuya revolved on his aching shins, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor.

"What have we learned?"

"We don't play at work."

"Why don't we play at work?"

"Because it upsets you."

"No. We don't play at work because it's not the time for it. It's not that I don't want to, it's so that I can keep food on the table and a roof over our heads. You said you wanted to work here. That means I expect you to work. Otherwise, I'd have you back at the ranch mucking stalls and picking beans."

"I _did_ work. You acted like I didn't. If you don't care, why should I bother?"

"You're not a woman, I'm not going to compliment you for every little thing."

"Little—I spent all day whitewashing this damn office when you said it was a waste of time! I have not eaten, I have not had a break, but I dare you to find a find a single inch of this building blank that I did not leave that way on purpose! I paid for the lime, I paid for the bluing, I paid for the brushes, the pail, everything! You've acted like I've been dead this whole build! Just tell me I did good!"

He regretted it the instant it passed his lips. Who was he to be demanding praise? There was no need for a man to be grateful for someone doing something he hadn't asked for. Hell, even when they asked for it, it wasn't worth much, was it. _Nobody's making a ruckus about doing daily business but you, li'l wiggler._ He had heard it more times than he could count under the Rangers, never mind elsewhere. A man taking care of business was not special. The knowledge of a job well done should be satisfaction enough. He thumped his fist against the floor and pressed his face to the dusty boards. God dammit, why must he be like this, dammit, dammit, dammit—

"God _dammit_!"

From there on he swore at great length and in vibrant color, knotting his fingers in his sleeves, teeth gritting til they shrieked for mercy. The urge to obey was the only thing that kept him on his knees and not running out to saddle his horse and ride as far away from here as he could. Texas, Texas would be good, no he might run into his actual father and he couldn't stand that, didn't need another reminder what a disappointment he was, not Texas... Mexico! He would go back to Mexico and drink lots of tequila with handsome, dark-eyed men that would never love him and probably wouldn't even roll him. Nevada... too empty. California? Might be nice. Might not. Plenty of gambling, the promise of gold. Or he could hop a ship, go to one of those countries he saw on the globe Sousuke bought him for his desk with the countries marked in fine oranges, pinks, and greens with names that drummed up images of divers exotic pleasures. Morocco, Siam, Corea, Peru, all as far away from here than he could imagine and thus, all equally good.

Although, no place was ever good for him, was it.

The notion stole the wind from his sails and he slackened where he laid, his cursing and teeth gnashing subsiding to quiet huffs that warmed his cheeks. He stroked his hair, relishing the feel of curls springing and smoothing around his fingers. He needed a drink. That was it, a nice tot of whiskey to put him out for the night.

The thump of boots before him drew him to realize that Sousuke had gone away while he pitched his conniption fit, which was a course of action that smarted no less from its blatant sensibility. Funning was all he had ever been good for. There was hardly a man who wouldn't buy him a drink and nary a one who'd stay to pick him out of his vomit come morning.

"Up."

He had no wish to obey, but no will to decline, and lifted his head. Sousuke stood over him with a fresh cup of coffee and a biscuit tore in half and packed with a slice of smoked meat wedged into one of his huge, rough hands and with the other, he raised him up.

"Alright, boy. Come show me this wash job of yours."

Biscuit and coffee both were bestowed unto him and he shamelessly devoured them as they embarked on a walkaround. He pointed out the parts that had been tricky, how he managed to not get wash on any of the roof and that it had not dripped onto the windows, the tinge of blue that would set their office apart from the countless other cheaply whitewashed structures in the area, and found himself swearing to do a proper oil job for the exterior and either milk or oil for the interior when money and materials were sufficient. They concluded their tour as he came up on the end of his biscuit.

"So that's it," he said, crumbs trickling down his sleeve. He rested his lips on the edge of his cup, casting a furtive glance towards his partner. "For now, anyway."

"A second coat'll do it, but it's a damn fine job." Sousuke placed an arm around him and pressed his mouth into his hair. "Good boy."

He carried on, murmuring so soft Natsuya felt it more than heard it, _good boy good boy good boy_. Oh, if he'd had a tail, he would've wagged it!

"Still gotta get that patch in front of the door."

"Well, I was thinking to lock up anyway." Sousuke straightened, hand working a circle on his shoulder. "By the time it takes us to finish with that, we should only be a little late for supper."

Finishing the porch was a trivial matter with two sets of hands. Once their brushes were clean, Sousuke returned to the spot in front of the door and pressed his thumb into it. He beckoned Natsuya over and had him cross over the print, leaving a rotund X on the boards.

"We're gonna lose it in the second coat."

Sousuke swiped his thumb on his trousers and stood. "We'll do it as many times as it takes."

**Author's Note:**

> A brief scene from several years earlier in Sousuke and Natsuya's relationship than Cocksleeves—pre-collaring, but post-kink intro. Figuring out how to tag stories that aren't E-rated is a pain.
> 
> Criticism is not only welcome, but encouraged, and helps me create better content in the future. Thanks for reading.  
21 November 2019  
\- 匿名重工業


End file.
